In This We Lay Our Strife
by rose-ettastone
Summary: Draco promised his mother something and that's why he's at Hogwarts for his last year, not because he wanted to be there, but because he had to be here.
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** In This We Lay Our Strife

**Pairing:** Draco/Harry

**Genre:** post-war, 8th year, hurt/comfort

**Rating:** PG-13 for this chapter (M overall)

**Summary:** He promised his mother something and that's why he's at Hogwarts for his last year, not because he wanted to be there, but because he had to be here.

**Note:** I am putting my Dumbledore/Grindelwald fic on hold until I can properly finish it. I am posting this fic instead because I have it done. Posting for now will be every Tuesday :)

**Disclaimer:** All recognizable Harry Potter characters and settings in this fanfiction are the property of J. K. Rowling and her associates. No copyright infringement is intended. No profit was made from this work.

Draco Malfoy sat in the Hogwarts Express with his back to the compartment door. He was cold, empty, tired. He felt older than he was and he knew why.

It was over.

Everything his family has worked for, their name, their esteem. It was all gone. His father was in Azkaban, his mother locked in the Manor, despite her refusal to be looked down on. No one would ever look at them the same. He would be lucky to get a job, even though he was going back to Hogwarts to finish his last year. It was over. His name, the thing he always hid behind, meant nothing now.

He was reduced to sitting in a compartment, next to Blaise Zabini and Pansy, his left arm stinging. It didn't hurt anymore, didn't burn black the way it once did, but he knew the sting would be with him for the rest of his life. It was his reminder of what he'd done.

Draco yanked down the sleeves of his robes. He leaned back into his seat ignoring the pointed look from Pansy and Blaise. He didn't want to be here. There was no point in him being here. He knew there were people who hated him, people who hated his father, his family, people who wanted revenge. Going to school meant that all these people would be in the same place all at once.

And Potter.

Potter was the last person that Draco wanted to see. Potter, the savior, the love of everyone's life. Potter. Potter who had ruined his life.

i_His mother is sitting in front of the fireplace in the Malfoy sitting room. She looks lost, like she's not really here, can't tell where she is. Draco has seen her like this more than once. She's been like that ever since the war ended, sometimes jumping up and hugging him close when he least expects it. He's seen her lost looks, the confusion on her face when she tells him that it's time to sleep._

_Draco thinks that maybe he's losing her to whatever corner of her mind she has retreated to. But, he should have known better. She is brilliant, sly, Slytherin._

_The day Draco gets the owl inviting him back to Hogwarts to "complete his education" if he so wishes, his mother takes him for a walk on the Manor grounds. It is warm as the sun sets and even though his mother says nothing, Draco knows this is important._

"_It's warm tonight." His mother says._

_Draco nods, walking next to her. She looks straight ahead, at the sun setting in the horizon. She looks to the left, to the doors protecting the Manor._

"_I am sorry Draco."_

_He doesn't understand. It surprises him and it takes a while for him to open his mouth and answer her. "For what mother?"_

_Narcissa turns to her son and takes his hand in hers. "I'm sorry for what we did to you Draco. You never wanted to. I could see it in your eyes. You hated everything you did. And you still did it."_

_Draco flinches. He doesn't need her to elaborate, doesn't want her to. He knows exactly what she's talking about. He still dreams about it at night; the cold, dead eyes, the screams, the death and most of all, the fire._

"_I had to." Draco says straightening. "Father expected it of me."_

"_Exactly." His mother says and looks away as if she can't bear to look at him, "it was always about what we wanted, what Lucius wanted. We never thought that you didn't want the same thing."_

"_I wanted what was best for the family." Draco says biting down the disgust._

_Always what was best for the family. _

_Narcissa looks at him, her eyes searching his for something. Draco doesn't know what she wants to see. He can't help her find it. He just stands there, under her gaze until she takes his other hand._

"_You have to do what is best for the family Draco, but you have to think about what you want too."_

"_I just want what is best for us."_

_Narcissa nods. "Go back to school. Make them believe in our name again."_

_Draco hears it again. The same thing he's always heard and because he's always heard it, it's not hard to say what he does._

"_I will. I promise I will."/i_

Draco looked out the window as the train rushed past the country side. He promised his mother something and that's why he's here, not because he wanted to be here, but because he had to be here.

"I don't suppose you're going to say something any time soon." Blaise said raking his eyes over Draco. "It's rather dull watching you mope."

"I'm not moping." Draco said dragging his eyes over Blaise and Pansy.

"Where do you suppose they'll put us?" Pansy said ignoring Blaise and turning to Draco now that he seemed like he wanted to talk. "I heard they want to put all the eight year students together since not many of them are coming back. Can you imagine? Putting us with the Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors. My mother would have a fit."

"It's all the same to me." Blaise answered crossing his legs and looking out the compartment door. "I don't care where they put us. I'm only here because mother thinks it would do well to finish this year."

"But still, they have to have some distinction. Slytherins are not in the same class as Gryffindors."

"Some Slytherins aren't even in the same class as others." Blaise countered looking away from Draco.

Draco bit back the urge to tell them both to shut up. He was tired of the same old arguments, the same bloody thing over and over. He was tired of everything really, his patience stretched to the point where it would only take one small thing to break him. Everything was gone. His life turned upside down and there was no one to blame it on, no one but his father and himself.

The petty nonsense, the talk of houses, it was all mundane, past his time. He was someone else now, someone with enemies, people who wanted to see him locked up because he dared to do what his family wanted. No one understood. They didn't get what he had to go through. They didn't understand that he had i_no choice_/i. It was what he had to do, the way he was raised, what was engraved into him from the moment of his birth. He was a Malfoy. He had to do what the Malfoy men did.

Even now, going back to school, it was all for his family. His father was locked in Azkaban, his mother locked away at the Manor. He had to work his way through life, i_all_/i his life, bringing back some sort of respect to their name.

It was too much and he had nobody to blame.

"Draco?"

Draco looked up at Pansy who was watching him as if waiting for an answer. He shook his head and Pansy reached a hand over.

"Is there something wrong?"

Draco smirked. "Of course not. What could possibly be wrong? I'm just tired."

"Tired?" Blaise asked raising a perfect eyebrow. "What could you possibly be tired of? You're family got away easy from what I heard. Your father is in Azkaban, but they let your mother go and you're invited back to Hogwarts. You should be a bit more grateful."

It was nothing and Draco knew he should handle things better, but he couldn't. He was on edge ever since the end of the bloody war and his trial. He didn't need this.

"Shut up Zabini." He said, voice low, the warning evident.

"Why? No one is afraid of you anymore Malfoy." Blaise said spitting out Malfoy like it's a curse. "Your father is a joke. Your whole family is a joke."

Draco has his wand pressed against Blaise's temple, anger burning through his veins.

"Shut. Up." He whispered. "Keep your mouth closed and do not i_ever_/i mention my father or my family again."

"And what, might I ask," Blaise said, "are you going to do to me if I do?"

Draco leaned forward so that his face was inches away from Blaise. "I will kill you."

"Draco." Pansy gasped. "You can't say things like that."

Draco glared one last time at Blaise and stepped out of the compartment. Pansy followed him, laying a hand on his elbow as she guided him away. He yanked his hand away and stalked off to the other end of the train. He just wanted to get away from Zabini, go anywhere where he could think.

He knew it wasn't the last time he was going to hear something about his family. He knew it wasn't and he knew he was going to get tired of it soon. Not for the first time Draco wondered if coming back to school was the right decision. He knew what he was going to have to go through and the glares from the first years in the corridors just confirmed his thinking.

Draco walked around the train until it stopped. He pulled his things off the train and started off to find a carriage with Pansy. They were climbing in when Draco saw the skeletal, winged horse that was pulling the carriage.

i_Only those that have seen death can see thresthals_./i

Draco had seen death. He had seen death more times than he wished for. Draco knew death, had stood alongside it as it tortured his father. He had heard death's laugh, the way it mocked him and his family. Draco knew death and the horses pulling the carriages weren't disgusting like he would have thought long ago.

"Coming Draco?"

"Yes." Draco answered climbing in after Pansy.

Draco sat and listened to Pansy talk about what she was going to do after classes were over and whether Draco would like to come over for the Christmas holidays. He nodded barely aware of the rustling from the things pulling the carriage. He was thinking of home again, of what lay for him in the castle, the people who hated him, blamed him, what he represented. The people at the castle didn't believe in mistakes, only Dumbledore had ever believed in mistakes.

Dumbledore who was dead.

"Draco, are you alright? You look a bit pale?"

"I'm fine Pansy."

She didn't press and Draco helped her out of the carriage. The students closest to them turned, eyes glaring holes into Draco, sneers painted on their faces. Draco didn't mind those. It was the sympathetic eyes hidden in the crowd, the pity that twisted his stomach and made him sick.

"Let them be." Pansy said looping her arm through Draco's. "You have no time for them."

"Of course not." Draco said straightening and pushing his way through the crowd of students. "We have no business here."

"Commoners." Pansy sniffed shying away from the Hufflepuffs near the gate. "I can't believe mother actually made me come back here. It's not as if I have any business getting a job. Zabini is going to marry rich, I might as well."

"Pansy," Draco drawled, "there are few rich men who aren't locked away in Azkaban."

"There's still you."

Draco laughed. "Parkinson, if you are waiting for me then you are wasting your time. It's going to take me my whole life just to get these i_half-bloods_/i to stop looking at me as if I were some kind of slug."

"I can wait."

"Don't hold your breath."

Pansy smiled at him and Draco was feeling better as they walked into the Great Hall. They sat down at the Slytherin table and everything was fine until Potter walked in. Draco watched him as everyone around him stood and clapped. Potter looked tired, but he smiled, ducking his head as he made his way to the Gryffindor table.

"Right bit of a show off." One of the students next to Draco muttered as Potter took his seat.

Draco said nothing. He waited and then Potter looked up and they were looking at each other. Hatred, hatred like nothing he had ever felt before flooded him, rage so strong he was sure he was seconds away from jumping at Potter like some sort of muggle. There, across the tables, was the reason for Draco's misfortune, for his mother's pain, his strife.

Potter.

It all boiled down to that. If Potter hadn't interfered than Draco's father would have succeeded, the family would have succeeded. Without Potter, Draco wouldn't be in this mess, glaring at those who glared at him, constantly on the edge because there might be someone who wanted to hex him.

It was Potter's fault.

It had to be his fault.


	2. Chapter 2

**Title:** In This We Lay Our Strife-Chapter 1

**Pairing:** Draco/Harry

**Genre:** post-war, 8th year, hurt/comfort

**Rating:** something like T for this chapter. M (overall)

**Summary:** He promised his mother something and that's why he's at Hogwarts for his last year, not because he wanted to be there, but because he had to be here for his family, for his name.

**Note:** Thank you for that review I got last week. This is a day late, but the same still holds: updates are weekly (more or less.)

**Disclaimer:** All recognizable Harry Potter characters and settings in this fanfiction are the property of J. K. Rowling and her associates. No copyright infringement is intended. No profit was made from this work.

Chapter 1

Draco wakes in the morning with a desire to roll over and sleep forever. It takes more effort than usual to get up and pull on his robes. He gives up on the tie and rakes a hand through his hair.

He doesn't bother with a mirror until he walks by the one Zabini keeps on his side of the room. Draco looks at himself, the bags under his eyes. He looks tired, but it's more than that. Somewhere in the back of the cold mask he has he looks defeated.

It's not something new. Draco has known for a long time that things had changed. Ever since the fall of the Dark Lord things had changed. Draco's father was in Azkaban, his mother locked at home and he was stuck in a school that didn't want him. The rest of the Slytherins wouldn't fare well, but for him it was a thousand times worse. He had the dark mark, the mark that burned on his left arm and marked him a traitor.

It would take everything in his power to earn the respect his name once held.

Draco sighs and runs a hand through his hair, pulling the strands over his head. It still looks attractive and he still looks like that boy that had the girls lining up to be with him. He just looks older. His eyes look older.

He turns away and walks through the common room and out to the Great Hall. Draco sees Pansy and Blaise sitting at the Slytherin table and he walks to them, trying to ignore how the conversations stop as he walks by. He can feel every eye turning to him and one a little Ravenclaw first year gasps when he looks at her.

"Good morning Draco." Blaise says when Draco sits down, lead in his stomach.

It's as close to an apology as Blaise will ever get, as close to one as any of them will ever get.

"Good morning Blaise." Draco answers.

His eyes drift over to the left side of the table where Goyle is sitting. Their eyes meet and Goyle nods. Once they used to be friends. Once Crabbe used to be alive.

"You look like you've seen Moaning Myrtle in the bathroom again." Nott says.

Draco looks at him. He hadn't noticed the way Nott was leaning into Bliase. He also hadn't noticed the way Blaise was giving Draco this look, like he wanted to tell him something, but couldn't find the way to say it.

"What are you doing here?" Draco asks raising an eyebrow.

"He's with me."

Draco exchanges a look with Pansy, but says nothing. The food in front of him looks unappetizing, probably tastes dry. Almost everything that Draco has eaten since the trial tastes old and dry. He knows somewhere in the back of his head there's the old Draco. He knows if he looks hard enough he can find himself. It just takes too much time, too much effort and even taking a few steps in that direction leaves him cold and alone.

It's better this way, feeling numb. He can deal with this.

"Draco," Pansy whispers in his ear, "he's coming."

Draco doesn't need to know who Pansy is talking about. The cheering in the Great Hall is enough answer. Potter. It disgusts him the way everyone seems to consider him such a hero. He's disgusted because if Potter had just rolled over and died Draco's family would be on top. He wouldn't be sitting in his chair wanting to vomit.

"Where are you going?" Blaise asks when Draco stands up.

"Class." Draco answers.

Pansy doesn't say anything, just brushes her fingers over Draco's hand as he turns away from them. He ignores the whispering that starts when he walks by. And on his way out he makes sure to walk in between the crowd of Gryffindors. His shoulder hits Potter's and he doesn't stop.

"Oi, Malfoy," Weasley calls, "watch where you're going."

Draco doesn't turn around.

"He's a great big git Harry. Don't worry about it."

Draco laughs, not out loud, but somewhere in the back of his head. He's a git and Potter needs reassuring, like Potter can't come up with his own conclusions. Like Potter is stupid now that he saved the world. Like he isn't worth anything because the Dark Lord is dead.

"Hey Potter," Draco calls before he can stop himself, "I didn't know that you had others to do your thinking for you. What? The Dark Lord's dead so now you're good for nothing? Do you miss him Potter?"

The hall goes quiet. Granger has her hand on Weasley's arm. She's holding him back, her eyes trained on Potter like she's waiting for something. Like she's hoping for something.

"Leave me alone Malfoy." Potter says.

"I don't think so." Draco says because there is something wrong, something not quite right about the way Potter answers. It's almost like he doesn't care.

"I bet you miss him, don't you?" Draco sneers. "You miss having someone to fantasize over. You miss thinking you were so important. What are you now Potter?"

There is a rustling around them and then Potter has his wand out. Draco thinks, _yes,_ and pulls out his.

"_Stupefy_."

Draco exhales and casts a shield charm. His blood is pumping in his veins like he wants this. It's the closest thing he's had to feeling awake, alive. He needs this, needs to hex Potter with every jinx he knows. He needs to have Potter on the floor, rolling in pain. Potter needs to pay for everything that has happened to Draco, for everything he has to go through.

Draco makes a low noise in his throat, frustration, anger, something and then he's flying in the opposite direction, yanked around his middle by something he can't see. He jumps up when he can and sees McGonagall with her wand out. Weasley is holding Potter who is screaming murder and the hand on his arm belongs to Pansy.

"Mr. Malfoy, put that wand away immediately. You too Mr. Potter. I want the both of you in my office this instant."

Draco watches Potter yank his hand from Weasley's hold. There is a sense of satisfaction as he watches Potter's flushed, angry face.

"Let go Pansy." Draco says, calmer than he has ever been in days. "I can handle myself."

"Are you sure?" She whispers.

Draco nods. "Of course."

She lets go and Draco follows McGonagall. She is standing between him and Potter, but Draco doesn't need to see him to know that Potter is looking at him with pure and utter hatred. It relaxes him even more. Potter hates him. He hates Potter.

"Butterbeer." McGonagall says to the gargoyle in front of her office.

She ushers them inside and waves her wand so that the bowl of biscuits turns into a second armchair.

"Sit." She says.

Draco sits, crosses his legs and watches as Potter glares at him.

"Now, I want to know what you two were thinking." McGonagall says rounding on them. "You two are some of the oldest among the student in this school. As such, you should know how to behave yourselves. You, Mr. Malfoy, know perfectly well that an act such as this will cause fear. I do not want this school saying that we were wrong in giving you a second chance. You aren't thirteen anymore. This foolish fighting can't go on."

Draco flushes and looks down at his shoes. She's right.

"And you Mr. Potter, you are the Chosen One. We turned to you when it seemed most dark. You do Dumbledore and your family disservice in engaging in demonstrations of hate. It isn't about Purebloods and Muggle-borns anymore."

"It never was." Potter mutters.

"Excuse me?"

Potter looks up, his green eyes boring into Draco's.

"I said; it wasn't about Purebloods and Muggle-borns."

"Then what was it about Mr. Potter. I fail to see how it was about anything else. You and Mr. Malfoy have had this issue from the very moment you entered this school. Times have changed. Learn to accept each other."

"That is highly unlikely Professor." Draco says before he can stop himself.

"Make it likely Mr. Malfoy." McGonagall answers. "Both of you. I am warning you just this once. You have the most to lose here Mr. Malfoy. Make sure that this doesn't happen again. I want you both on your best behaviour."

"I'll behave." Potter snaps. "But I do not want him anywhere near me."

"I don't care how much distance there has to be between the two of you. I just don't want to see anymore duelling in my halls. Now, go to your classes."

Draco stretches and gets up. Potter slams his chair on his way up and Draco smirks. They walk out of the office together. Draco can almost feel the tension between then, like Potter is trying to keep his mouth shut.

"Spit it out Potter." Draco says when they are a floor away from Potions. "You look like you're dying to say something."

"Shut up Malfoy."

"No."

Potter made a noise somewhere between frustration and anger. "Look Malfoy, I don't care what you have to say. I don't care what happens to you. I don't want to hear you talking to me. I don't want you looking at me. I want you as far from me as possible."

Draco yawns as they turn a corner. "But Potter. What am I supposed to do for fun if I can't torment you?"

"Leave me alone Malfoy. Go and play with your Slytherin friends. Go mourn Voldemort's death alone and leave me alone. I don't need you bothering me."

"Like you have it so hard. The Boy Who Lived. The Chosen One. Bugger off Potter. If anyone should stop bothering anyone it's you."

Potter stops walking and turns to Draco. "Are you fucking kidding me? What now? You're upset because your mother got such a _light_ sentence. You wanted her locked away in Azkaban with that pathetic excuse of a man you call father."

"Shut up." Draco says, his tone of voice laced with his threat. "Don't you dare say a word about my father or my mother."

"Death Eaters. _Traitors_. Your father deserved everything he got and more. Your mother _should_ be locked away."

Draco growls and shoves Potter against the wall. He wants to hurt him, cause him pain, _taint_ him in some way. His hands are on Potter's shoulders, their noses right on top of one another.

"I told you to shut up about my father and my mother."

"So proud of him aren't you Malfoy?" Potter spits out. "So fucking proud of the bastard who wasn't even good enough to lick Voldemort's shoes."

Draco exhales, his breath coming out in ragged gasps. He is angry, burning with a desire to punch Potter's face in. He wants something. He doesn't know what. He just wants and it isn't until he looks into those eyes—so defiant, so angry—that he realizes what it is he wants.

"Shut up." He growls low in his throat. "Shut up because you have no clue what it's like. You have _no idea_ how much…how stupid…you don't know. You have it so easy. You're so perfect. Everyone loves you. You're not the son of a Death Eater. You're not one of _them_. You don't know."

"Shows how much you know." And there is so little emotion that Draco lets go.

"All everyone sees," Potter says looking down at his feet, "all they see is an idol. They don't see me. They think they know me, but no one really does, only Ron and Hermione. They think I know what I am going to do, who I want to be. They're looking at me for inspiration and I have no fucking clue."

"That's your own fault Potter." Draco says.

"But, you don't get it." Potter says and there is a desperation in his voice that grabs at Draco. "I _killed_ him. All those people died for me and I _killed_ him. I killed a man, another human being."

"He wasn't human." Draco says.

Potter looks at him. Those green eyes scream at him. He wants to believe Draco and that's what breaks him. Draco leans forward, his hands gripping short, dark hair and he crashes their lips together. It's not soft, not reassuring in any way. It's hard and bruising because Draco wants to Potter to _see._ Potter is so stupid. He has everything and Draco has nothing. He has nothing but lips against his.

He lets out a frustrated noise and pushes his hips against Potter. He wants something. He doesn't know what he wants, but he knows he can get it here. He can make Potter break. He can destroy him. Like this, not with wands and spells, but with kisses and bites along his neck. Draco wants to see Harry Potter breaking for him, begging for him. He wants to see the person responsible for his problems tainted and used and he wants Potter to fight back.

"Please," Potter whispers against Draco's ear, "please."

Draco responds with a roll of his hips and fumbling fingers, trying to unbutton pants. His fingers slide into the front of Potter's trousers and then he's sliding his hands along the heated flesh. Draco takes in the way Potter's head bangs against the wall. Something roars inside his chest at knowing that here is the Golden Boy, gagging for this, broken and in the hands of Draco Malfoy. His whole body thrums with pleasure at knowing that it will be at the hands of a Death Eater that Potter falls.


End file.
